


Revenge

by Avalantia



Series: Reforged [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avalantia/pseuds/Avalantia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The latest in the Reforged series. Camelot has been saved again and now the real work of uniting Albion can finally begin. But not everyone is happy about Arthur's plan for the country. The young king was foolish to forget the past so quickly. Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope for the best but plan for the worst

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: This is an AU series diverging after S5E2 and over the course of the previous two stories I've introduced a fair number of OCs. I'd recommend going back and reading both "Reforged and Sublimated" and then "Reawakening" before continuing on. Thanks! Oh and I own nothing but the folks you don't recognize.

"I'm never going to give up. I promise. But sometimes I feel like I really will be an old woman before I get the hang of that! How do you make it look so effortless? Every time I start, my throat closes up and I can't breathe!" Leheya's large brown eyes were bright with frustrated tears that she refused to acknowledge even as they clung to her lashes and threatened to spill over.

Her mentor gave the young woman a searching gaze. Confusion was painted all over her porcelain face but her emerald eyes were kind as they took in her frustrated acolyte. "Leheya, you are without a doubt one of the most outgoing, fearless, and talkative people I have ever met. How can it be that you have an issue with speaking in front of large groups? I could see if you were shy by nature but you're so...not!"

Leheya took a few shuddering breaths to regain a small bit of her composure before trying to explain her fears. "I know it must seem that I'm intentionally being contrary but I assure you this is beyond my control. How can I phrase this? It's one thing entirely to speak to anyone, even a stranger, in a smaller setting. There I can directly interact with them and I have more control. More ability to immediately read by how they hold themselves and small facial queues when they may not understand what I'm saying. But once I get in front of a large group of people. People I can't read all at once. Who aren't reacting to what I'm saying. Those judging, judging people. I just can't!" With a groan of frustration the young priestess threw up her hand and stalked around the room in agitation before whirling to face her mentor and exclaiming, "Why are there so many Holy Days and feasts? Does it not seem like too many to you? Did anyone even ask the Goddess if she cares about this sort of thing? Maybe all she wants is for us to take a quiet moment in thanks and contemplation. I can do that. You should bring it up next time you speak with Her." They stray through lodged itself in Leheya's mind and words came tumbling out of her mouth with no conscious thought and certainly no control. "I can't believe you've actually spoken with Her! To actually be in Her presence was almost too much after the battle. I nearly fainted! I couldn't maintain any semblance of composure if She ever appeared to me directly. I wouldn't be able to speak. Or even worse! What if I couldn't stop speaking? What if I babbled on and on and annoyed Her? What would She do to me? I can't even think about it! Maybe I'm not cut out to be a High Priestess. I can serve Her in other ways. Maybe I'll take up a craft. Or attend Gaius and Alice's physician school-"

Her teacher closed her eyes and again pondered the woman in front of her as she babbled. Leheya literally could not stop talking once she got started sometimes. How was it that when she was at an altar all she could squeeze out was a small squeak? The mentor cracked a wicked grin and leaned in close to stem the verbal flood. "Do you want to know my secret?" she asked conspiratorially. Leheya stopped talking mid sentence. At her student's narrowed eyes and suspicious head-tilt the woman laughed musically, lowering her voice until it was a husky whisper. "I imagine that everyone listening to me is wearing naught but their smallclothes." Seeing Leheya's shocked expression sent the older woman into a fit of girlish giggles. "It's true! One of my tutors growing up knew that I was uncomfortable speaking to large crowds every time Uther paraded me about and suggested that I try it. It worked for me until I gained familiarity and confidence in my ability to speak before large crowds. Try it next time."

"Morgana Pendragon, are you serious? Do you really?" Leheya's frustrated tears were completely forgotten as she imagined the poised High Priestess using such imagery to cure her nerves while speaking before large groups. "I imagined that you were born able to command the masses!"

Morgana gracefully collapsed onto one of the overstuffed chairs situated along the wall in the chambers she had set aside for Leheya's Priestess training. They had retreated here after Leheya's painfully awkward latest attempt at leading a worship service. Morgana gave quick thanks that there wasn't another feast day for a month or so. There was time to help Leheya conquer her fear of speaking in front of crowds. Leheya had been a High Priestess for only a few months and while she was excelling in the day to day operations of the Isle Temple, she struggled with leading services. Which was why she'd recently traveled to Camelot begging for additional training from Morgana. "Hardly!" Morgana exclaimed with a laugh. "Arthur is the one who inherited that particular talent." Her eyes flashed gold and a violet flame appeared in her hand, dancing to a song that only Morgana could hear. "On the whole I'll take the talents I was born with over that, though. Wouldn't you agree?" With a wink at her student she stood back up and hurried towards the door. "Now I'm late for a meeting with my dear brother. Stay here and practice. Remember what I told you. Smallclothes. Tiny tiny smallclothes."

 

* * *

 

The leaves on the ancient trees of Camelot's famed forests had traded in their customary green for a thousand different shades of gold, amber, and ruby. Only the evergreens stubbornly refused to relinquish their emerald adornments. In the months since the rebuilding of the Isle of the Blessed, Camelot had seen substantial changes. The Atzinganoi had moved their camp just outside the walls of the citadel. The Druids were reclaiming long-abandoned villages and putting down roots for the first time in a generation. Word had quickly spread throughout Albion that the Isle had been rebuilt and the constant stream of pilgrims had required Arthur to pave and improve many of the roads that had been neglected for years. Thanks to the ingenious Atzinganoi sorcerers, the roads were both straighter and more level than anyone had ever imagined possible. And with the small tolls being charged for access to the roads, Gwen had been able to fund a small legion of civilian protectors to ensure the pilgrims had safe passage through the lands. This relieved the army from the task and provided many brave men and women with honest work.

The Druids had used their knowledge of a vast underground water reservoir and had used their powers to create hundreds of bubbling springs, steadily irrigating fields that had been at the whim of the uncertain weather. Non magic users shared with the Druids their new methods for tempering steel. Thirty years of forced separation had lead the groups on divergent paths and as they came back together there was an explosion of industry as the two groups shared their advancements with one another and built upon them.

These changes all had stemmed from the same act. Arthur's acceptance of magic. That decision had lead to the Druids being welcomed back into Camelot society. The defeat of the evil god Elolam. The strengthening of the Triple Goddess's powers. The rebuilding of the Isle Temple. His Kingdom was quickly making up for thirty years of needless strife. If Arthur could talk to his father now, he would have stood tall and proud as he announced his decision. He would not have ducked his head or sought his father's approval. He was confident in his leadership and his decisions. The creation of the Round Table council afforded him the ideas, thoughts, and opinions of people that he trusted. Gave him unique perspectives. And he didn't regret his choice for a moment.

Well maybe once or twice. His sister certainly wasn't shy in arguing with him. Especially when it concerned her people, the followers of the Old Ways. With the Isle of the Blessed having been cleansed of the taint of the evil Elolam, and rebuilt with an immense amount of magic, there was some confusion as to how exactly to manage what was essentially a small city-state that had literally been built in a single day.

Morgana and Arthur had spent the past five months negotiating the terms of the treaty. Arthur had argued for long hours that because the Isle was within Camelot's borders that it was sovereign territory. Morgana argued that while Arthur was a good and kind king, she was determined to protect the future of her people. They would need to be able to see to their own defense should they at some terrible day be faced with aggression from Camelot. Even Arthur could concede that he had no way to actually guarantee that his successors wouldn't try to take the island by force.

Merlin and Gwen had mutually decided to avoid those meetings at all cost after the months began to drag on, and had just that morning decided between the two of them that there was only one way to determine what should happen. There was a visitor to Camelot. The Liaison to the Isle of the Blessed who had traveled back with High Priestess Leheya a few days prior. They knew he was the one person in the kingdom who they trusted implicitly to give fair and wise advice.

"Oh that? They still haven't come up with the solution? What needs to happen is a three part treaty. Political, Financial, and Military. Camelot must acknowledge the the Isle is an independent kingdom. The Isle must integrate Camelot's core laws into their own and provide Camelot reparations in the form of gold, goods, and services in return for this acknowledgement and the freedom to rule themselves. Finally, the Isle must not prevent their subjects from joining the Camelot military with the understanding that their first allegiance shall always be the Isle and that under military threat from one side to the other that these troops shall side with the non-aggressor. Additionally should Camelot pose a military threat to the Isle all reparations would cease immediately."

The words were calmly spoken, as if the speaker were not currently engaged in training with a greatsword in his powerful hands. As he finished, Sir Percival nodded to the new druid spellsword he was engaged with in mock battle to indicate that they were finished. The man gaped in awe at the giant knight and bowed before heading back to the armory, no doubt to spread the tale and embellish it liberally.

Gwen handed the hulking knight an ewer of water which he took with a grateful smile. His intelligent eyes sparkled in a face that was far too handsome by half. His size and good nature had caused many who came across the normally quiet man to discount his intelligence. A mistake that he took gleeful advantage of at every opportunity. However, in the years since he had first come to Camelot, he had let those in the King's inner circle come to know the man behind the muscles. He was perceptive and wise beyond his years. Truly had he not been an elite knight and a terror on the battlefield he would still have been made an advisor to the crown for his ability to cut directly to the heart of a matter without getting lost in the details. He had been the perfect choice for official liaison to the Isle.

Merlin shared a laughing look with Gwen as Percival poured water over his head and shook like a dog. "I would not have thought to include goods and services in the agreement but I see the wisdom. Gwen, I assume you'll casually mention this to Arthur as I will to Morgana? I'd like to see this taken care of before too long. I have waited too long to seek out the other Dragonlords as it is"

Gwen shot the master warlock a wry smile. "I will of course. But you must realize that it is entirely within the realm of possibility that they are simply using these extended negotiations as a way to practice their verbal sparring skills and have a few months rest before your next adventure? Though I don't think they'd figured out including Camelot's unilateral rights laws into the Isle's own," she mused.

Percival interrupted their conversation gently, "Am I to understand that they are in negotiations and are not expected to be done for some time?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow and answered the unasked question. "Yes, my friend. Your lovely Leheya is in Morgana's study and currently has several hours of downtime."

Gwen shouted out instructions at Percival's quickly retreating form, "Do her a favor and bathe before you go to her!" Giggling at the rude gesture the knight made at them behind his back, she placed a hand on Merlin's arm and let him lead her back to the keep. As she reached the top of the stairs she let out a soft gasp and touched her protruding belly.

"Gwen, what's wrong?" Merlin firmly directed the Queen to a bench and began to inspect her with the impersonal touch of a physician.

Gwen batted Merlin's hands away and looked into her dear friend's bearded face. "Merlin I'm fine! Stop your fussing! You know as well as I do that these children are divinely protected while they stay in my womb. One of them merely kicked and it startled me!"

Merlin gave an abashed grin as he flushed with embarrassment. "I know that. I do. But I can't help but to worry. Carrying children is dangerous, Gwen. Birthing them even more so. You can't blame me for my concern."

The queen merely raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and waited.

Merlin held out for almost ten whole seconds before blurting out, "Fine! I'm sorry! I know the Goddess Herself is watching over you and your children and it's insulting and unnecessary to worry. There. Are you happy now?"

"Perfectly happy. And Perfectly hungry! Come help me raid the larder and I'll join you in the library and stuff my face with my feet up as I watch you do more research. Does that sound fun?" Gwen rose and linked her arm in Merlin's, leading him towards the kitchens and the blackberry pastries she knew were being baked even now.

 

* * *

 

Leon clapped Mordred on the shoulder and smiled at the youngest of Camelot's elite knights. "You'll do fine, my friend. You've got four strong men joining you, one from each of the clans you'll be visiting. Just remember, answer any questions the people have about the spellswords honestly and to the best of your ability. If you come across a question you don't know the answer to simply write it down and we will send a messenger or a raven with the answer. We want to make certain that each of the clans understand what we're hoping to accomplish as well as seeing the progress we've made in the past several months."

Mordred gave his mentor a lopsided grin. "I can do that. With the progress you've made in training the civilian watchmen to police the roads I doubt we'll see any trouble. I'm anticipating a quiet trip. We're bringing several of Morgana's ravens with us just in case, though."

Leon's eyes crinkled at the sides as his smile deepened. "Hoping for the best and planning for the worst, I see. That's very smart."

Mordred flushed at Leon's praise. "Well you never know, after all." Clearing his throat he continued, "We should be back to the citadel within a month or so. Well before the first snows at any rate. If you have need of us, send a raven to each of the clans and we will respond as soon as we receive the missive."

Leon's grip on Mordred's shoulder tightened a small bit and brought the young knight's eyes to his own. "You're going to do fine. I have every faith in you and your men. I will see you by Samhain. Safe travels, brother."

As Mordred walked towards the stables to ready his horse, Leon touched the place over his heart where an oft-read letter was hidden safely beneath his chainmail. With luck, Mordred wouldn't be the only one he would see by Samhain.

Turning back towards the citadel with an entirely different smile hovering on his lips, Leon spied Elyan speaking with a group of craftsmen. Elyan had overseen the quarrying and transport of the stone for the rebuilding of the Isle the previous winter. What had initially been an unwelcome task had in fact proven to be an excellent fit for the Knight. The son of a blacksmith, he respected craftsmen and understood the artistic spirit that was all too often overlooked in their work.

With this understanding he gained the respect of the craftsmen that worked to add roads and buildings to an ever-growing Camelot. As a result, new construction was both solidly built and beautifully finished. Roads had subtle patterns in the stone. Woodwork was embellished with clan sigils and the golden dragon of Camelot. In fact, some of the more prosperous families had banded together to found a school where more could be trained in these crafts. This wasn't entirely altruistic, of course. If they had their own team of highly skilled craftsmen building their estates and townhomes then they could get the highest quality work and show up their neighbors with the opulence of their estates during the frequent balls that Arthur so often tried to avoid.

Many of these new craftsmen were the Atzinganoi to had settled into the forest just outside the city. Their unique style and methods had been foreign and exotic to the people of Albion from whom they had so long stayed apart. Thus their services were in high demand by the elite and common peoples alike. The egalitarian attitudes of the Atzinganoi ensured that they treated each of their clients equally and provided the exact same quality of work regardless of if they were being paid in gold coins or in barter.

It was not only their crafts which were of interest to the people of Camelot, though their unique weapons with the beautiful waving pattern to the metal were in high demand. But their martial skills as well. Sir Gwayne had been charged with training with the Atzinganoi he had led to battle the previous spring to see what he might learn from them that could be applied to the Army as a whole. That this gave the Knight more access to the lovely second-in-command of the tribe, Purah was merely a coincidence the knight had no shame in taking advantage of.

"Surely you must see the logic, my flower. You are liaison to my people. I am liaison to your people. It makes sense for us to lock ourselves away for a few hours and...liaise…" Gwaine leaned in to nibble along Purah's collarbone as he murmured to her. "Let us find a secluded place. Your tent, perhaps?"

Purah leaned into his skillful embrace for a moment before pulling away with obvious reluctance. "I would like nothing better, but Vadoma is expecting me to report to her on the progress with the negotiations between Arthur and Morgana. She has a vested interest in how this all turns out, obviously." Gwaine groaned in disappointment but before he could protest Purah leaned in to whisper in his ear, "This should only take an hour or so. Why don't you meet me at the corral and we'll take a private ride in the woods. To that small pool with the waterfall. You know the one." While his eyes glazed over in memory of the day they had found the secluded glade she sashayed away, throwing a smoldering look over her shoulder and smirking at the look on her Knight's face.

 

* * *

 

"I still find it hard to believe that the King has so easily accepted magic. And this Spellsword business. Well, Sir Mordred, you must admit that it could be interpreted as a means to keep our best warriors under close eye." The Chieftain was a tall, thin man with a stern face but kind eyes. He had greeted Mordred and his knights as welcomed guests when they had arrived the previous evening. Insisting that they eat and rest before any official business was started.

"I can certainly understand your reservations, Chieftain. And were I in your position, and not privy to the information I have then I might well share your concerns. But I remind you that Emrys himself is the highest adviser in the land and the reason that the spellswords were created. Arthur realized that the reason he always had such good luck on the battlefield was that his own servant was a warlock who used spells to change the tide of battles. The logical deduction from there was of course that if one magic user had proven to save so many lives what would an entire regiment of them do? How quickly could skirmishes be ended? How many injuries and deaths prevented?"

"I concede that seems wise," the chieftain reluctantly admitted.

"In addition, Gaius and Alice have opened a medical academy and in time we will have battlefield physicians that are assigned to each unit, thereby further decreasing the likelihood of casualties. Arthur is no fool. He knows that we live in dangerous times and that his duty to unite all of Albion under our banner won't come with no blood spilled. But he is doing everything he can to ensure that his people, all of his people, are as safe as possible." His eyes took on a faraway look for a brief moment as he remembered first hearing the reports from the battle for the Isle and the lives lost that day. Battlefield physicians could have prevented so many needless deaths.

Mordred had said these same words once before in the past week since he'd left Camelot. And felt quite certain he would be repeating them twice more as he spoke with the other two clans he was meeting with in the coming weeks. Their concerns were justified and he was pleased to find that they didn't have any objections to the spellswords, per se. But rather than they were simply concerned for the wellbeing of their clansmen. This was perfectly understandable and in Mordred's opinion, the sign of a wise chieftain. Regardless, he droned on with only a fraction of his mind fully in the moment and when a young man burst into the tent and yelled something he had to ask the frantic messenger to repeat himself.

"Armed riders, Sir! They're attacking the village! Hurry!"

Mordred didn't hesitate, turning to his men who were already unsheathing their swords and tightening their gauntlets he gave his orders. "We've prepared for this. Our top priority is the safety and protection of the clan. These people don't need heroes. They need guardians. Am I understood?"

As one his men voiced their understanding and the five knights quickly raced from the tent and towards the screams they heard. The battle was brief and violent. As the clan hunters peppered the attacking raiders with arrows from a distance, Mordred and his men jumped into the melee and tried to draw attention to themselves. The moment they started casting spells the attackers switched their focus and Mordred found his team surrounded by at least thirty men. Using the telepathic link his people all possessed he yelled to the Chieftain to leave them to get his people to safety and send word to Camelot. He needed only to buy the clan enough time to find safety in the forest. They were well able to hide themselves away."

Calling on their training the five men worked in tandem to alternately push their attackers away with focused wind bursts and light them aflame with fireballs. Those men that made it through that onslaught were met with blade and shield as the knights prevented them from reaching the fleeing clan. So focused were they on their task and so lost in the heat of battle that Mordred forgot his training, exultant in their seeming victory. He dropped his guard. Didn't consider that he could be flanked. He heard a startled yell begin and quickly die in a gurgle from behind him. As he turned to see what had happened he felt a sharp pain in his right temple. And then he fell and knew no more.

  



	2. What Lies in the Darkness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Don't own anyone you recognize. Upping the rating just to be safe. Hope you enjoy :)

The first thing Mordred felt was the incessant pounding in his head. Every heartbeat felt as though he was being bludgeoned. Breathing in to try and calm himself, he drew only musty air. He slowly cracked his eyes to peer through his eyelashes and found that there was a burlap hood sack over his head. That explained the faint traces of turnips he smelled, then. As he catalogued his condition he found that his hands and feet were bound above him and he had been stripped of his armor and weapons. The swaying motion led him to believe that he was trussed to something and was being moved. Moving his hands as much as he could while not letting on that he was awake, he found that he was hanging from a wooden pole of some sort. Right. Nothing good could possibly come from his circumstances. Collecting himself before panic could set in, he sent out a call using telepathy. Receiving no response he began to worry for his men. Remaining calm he told himself that they could merely be unconscious as he had been.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice somewhere by his feet. "How long we got to carry this blighter, then?"

The answer from near his head confirmed that he was being transported. "Till we get to where the boss says he's headed. You know that."

"But where are we taking him?" the voice by his feet, Foot Soldier he decided to call him, asked.

The man near his head, the Head Soldier responded with, "Boss says we're taking him to the witch's pit. Had some fancy patch on his armor. Thinks he is some sort of special knight or something. One of them damn magic users we heard about. The boss wants information."

"Fancy knight like him won't just talk. Specially one from Camelot. We lost more'n half our men back there and there was only five of the filthy dogs."

The foot soldier chuckled evilly and quipped, "I hope he puts up a good fight. Hope he doesn't just spill his guts. No fun in that is there?" garnering an answering laugh from the head soldier.

"Spill his guts. No I hope he doesn't. Least not till we get to do it for him, eh?" This sent the men into peals of cruel laughter as they applauded their own cleverness.

Mordred again sent out a mental call. More desperate this time. He was in serious trouble. He was calling so loudly and so frequently that he very nearly missed the quiet response when it finally came.

" _Who by the blood of the dragons are ye and why are ye yellin' inta ma mind?"_ The thoroughly irritated voice with the gentle brogue belonged to a woman.

Mordred nearly cheered in relief at finally being able to contact someone. Even if it was a stranger. " _My name is Sir Mordred. I'm a Knight of Camelot and I've been captured. Please, you must get word of my location to Camelot immediately."_

" _Camelot? Nay, I'm afraid that willna be possible. Nobody is allowed to go there. The road is patrolled to prevent people frae even tryin'."_ The denial was swift and emphatic. Her tone gentled a small bit then, " _I truly am sorry Sir Mordred. But men swarm the woods and the road leading to Camelot like bees in an orchard. They've killed all of the ravens just in case some of them were messengers. It's too much. I would die in the effort and I have my own mission here that I cannae abandon."_

" _I am begging you. Please try! I know that you only have my word to go on. And that you have no reason to believe me. But I swear upon the golden dragon of Camelot that you will be amply rewarded by the crown should you give them information on my whereabouts."_

There was a long silence then. So long that Mordred wondered if the woman had heard what he had said of if she had simply washed her hands of him. In time he passed back out, remaining blessedly unconscious until he was awoken when the men carrying him abruptly dropped the pole he was hanging from and he landed roughly on the ground. He wasn't able to stop the grunt he made on impact and the two men laughed coarsely. "Thought that might wake you up," the man he'd identified as the foot soldier taunted. "Welcome to your new temporary home, Camelot scum." And with that he cuffed Mordred on the temple with one meaty fist and knocked him out cold once again.

* * *

As the last light from the sun fell the land was enveloped in a lavender robe. It was the sort of autumn evening that felt like summer, never mind that the sun was setting earlier and earlier. The heat of day faded ever so slightly and a gentle breeze blew through the castle as every window was opened wide to encourage even the smallest movement of air to bring relief from the heat. Throughout the citadel the residents were settling in for the night. Ensconced safely in their rooms.

* * *

On the bottom floor of the castle, Gaius and Alice had enjoyed a savory meal and were sitting together enjoying a bit of wine as they poured over an ancient tome that Vadoma had loaned them. Detailing the medical advances made by people that lived far from Albion. There was a particular focus on not just physical wounds but also on the toll such wounds took on the minds of people who had suffered them. It was simply fascinating.

* * *

Sitting in his rooms Leon was again reading the latest letter from his greatest secret. He had memorized every word. Every graceful swirl of ink that brought his beloved's thoughts to him. There wouldn't be a chance to send another letter out before Samhain and the wait was weighing heavily on his mind.

_My Dearest Love,_

_Knight who holds my heart in his hands. I bring the possibility of glad tidings. There is the smallest possibility that I will be coming to your home for Samhain. There are so very many details to work out that it feels as if the stars themselves must align to afford me the chance for a few precious stolen moments with you. And oh does it grieve me that those moments must be stolen at all. Would that I could call my love for you from the tallest towers. That all in the land would know of the pure fire that is our love. For the flame of my love has not dimmed with the distance between us. My heart is steadfast and belongs only to you. I content myself with the sure knowledge that your heart beats in time with my own. Pray with me that I will be able to travel to you. For surely the Goddess will smile upon us and I will soon see your face again._

_Until then, know that my thoughts are never far from you,_

_Your Guide in the Labyrinth_

Leon closed his eyes and prayed earnestly in the dim light. They would be together again soon. He knew it.

* * *

In the next room Leheya turned her head to look behind her as she slowly opened her robe and let the fine silk fall from her body in a careless waterfall. Giving Percival a siren's smile she looked at his naked form in blatant approval before slowly bending at the waist to pick up the discarded fabric. Between one heartbeat and the next her strong knight picked her up into his arms and she gave a shriek of delighted laughter as she squirmed out of his hold and ran across the room. Her love giving chase with a booming laugh of his own.

Catching her easily the large man tossed her onto their bed and loomed over her delicate form with a hunter's smile at having his quarry trapped beneath him. The small woman slid her hands up his powerful arms before resting them on his broad shoulders. "Well now you've caught me, Sir Knight," she breathed in a sultry whisper. With hooded eyes she flicked a pink tongue across her lips. "Now what will you do to me?"

Percival dropped his head and placed heated kisses along her shoulders and collarbone, trailing up her neck until he reached the delicate shell of her ear. With a husky voice he whispered to her, "Whatever I want, little sparrow." He traced the skin of her sides with feather-light touches before grinning widely. That grin was her only warning before he started tickling the sensitive skin on her waist. Eliciting more shrieks of laughter from the priestess and breathless promises of swift retaliation.

* * *

Gwen shifted in her chair and yawned widely, rolling her head to try to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. Blinking a few times, she returned her focus to her embroidering. "Arthur?" She asked her husband. "Do you think we should ask Alice to find out what gender the babies are? She mentioned to me that she should be able to delve and find out by about now."

The king of Camelot looked up from his reading and took in the sight of his wife sitting by the window. He couldn't stop the primal flare of satisfaction that pulsed through him as he looked at her. Beautiful and growing with his children inside her. It spoke to something deep inside of him and made his chest puff out in pride. Considering her words for a moment he said, "What would change for you, if they were boys or girls?"

Gwen paused and looked at Arthur. "Well, I suppose I was thinking more along the lines of whether to make the gowns for the naming ceremonies more feminine or masculine? But that's not what you're talking about, I think."

Arthur smiled gently at his wife. "No I suppose it isn't. I've...struggled through the years to break free from my father's notions of what is appropriate for men as opposed to women. For some reason I always fall back to his teaching. Yet in my mind these teachings don't apply to you or to Morgana. You've both been separated somehow for me. I'll think to myself that oh women shouldn't have to go to battle, but then I'll think of how the two of you fight and I can't ever quite make the connection that you're more than capable. Am I mucking this up? Do you know what it is that I'm trying to say?" He looked at Gwen hopefully. She could always see into the heart of him. Understand his meaning when he spoke his thoughts as they formed rather than waiting to have everything settled in his mind as he did with most others.

Gwen raised an eyebrow and shot her husband a playful look. "Arthur! You just admitted that you think of your wife and sister as actual people! I'm so pleased!" She raised a hand to forestall his further explanation and continued on. "It sounds to me that you're saying whether or not the babies are girls or boys you want them raised exactly the same. Am I right?"

Arthur gave a sigh at her putting his thoughts into words better than he could. "Yes exactly that. I don't think it will matter to me. Whichever of those children is born first will inherit the kingdom. Regardless of if they're boys or girls. I don't think I particularly care. I'm just thankful that you're under Her protection while you carry our heirs." He stood up and walked over to his Queen, offering her a hand and leading her to their bed. "And now my lady, I believe we should retire. Every time you yawn it makes me yawn which makes you yawn and it's just not dignified."

* * *

Morgana considered her options while she could still form halfway coherent thoughts. It would take but a moment's thought to free herself from her bonds. Her hands were tied and she was resting on her knees. Arms stretched high above her head. Her ankles were tied to prevent her from standing up or moving her legs from their bent position, shoulder width apart. Keeping her hanging helplessly. Her body fully on display. Even less time to speak the word aloud that would end this. Allow the blindfold to fall from her eyes. Not that she wasn't thoroughly enjoying herself. Merlin had exquisitely talented hands. It wasn't the pain pleasure pain of the delicate knife he used to cut shallow runes into her skin. Only to soothe the stinging pain away with his silver tongue and rough words of devotion. The shallow cuts would be healed by morning, leaving no sign they'd ever been there.

They'd worked their way up to this loveplay as he helped her through healing from the trauma of her near violation at Elolam's hands the previous winter. Merlin had surprised her with how masterful and dominant he could be when the two of them were alone in the safety and opulence of their chambers. Her breath caught and she let loose a high whine as her body tensed and her back bowed with the strength of her release. With one last kiss to her inner thigh Merlin moved to kneel behind her and grabbed her hips with strong hands. "We're just getting started, my love," he whispered in her ear. Bringing a wicked grin to his wife's lips. They had all night. And she would be returning the favor by morning.

* * *

Elyan stared at the ceiling counting the tiles as he tried again to fall asleep. There were exactly nine hundred tiles but he usually only got to eight hundred or so before he would finally lose consciousness. He groaned as yet another high-pitched shriek could be faintly heard through the wall that separated his quarters from Percival's. He didn't begrudge his friend's happiness but by the gods the two lovebirds could be annoying.

Giving up all thought of even trying to get some sleep, Elyan threw his covers off and leapt from his bed. Storming over to his wardrobe he exchanged his sleeping trousers for a casual outfit and soft boots. If he was going to be awake he might as well review the latest trade agreement proposals coming in from Nemeth. They had unique stone deposits for which the craftsmen of Camelot had been clamoring but their terms seemed uncharacteristically steep.

Elyan walked purposefully towards the large kitchens. A strong pot of tea and some of the pastries that always seemed to be on hand since his sister's pregnancy made itself known would be just the thing to get him through the long hours ahead of him. Giving a nod to the watchmen along his route, Elyan strode through the hallways. He had nearly reached the kitchens when he hears swift footsteps coming from behind him.

Whirling around the knight reached for a sword that wasn't there as he tensed, prepared to swiftly deal with whatever was coming. However he relaxed when a guardsman in Camelot's colors appeared.

"Sir Elyan! I'm so glad to have found you! A raven just came in and sir I think you need to see this missive." The guardsman panted as he held out a small scroll to the confused elite knight.

Elyan took the small scroll and walked over to one of the lit wall sconces to get a better look at what was written. He read the short note three times, verifying that he was really seeing the words and not just confused and tired. Finally he rolled it back up and gave directions for the watchman to alert the guards and to rouse the round table council.

* * *

Arthur yawned as he walked into the council chambers, hair sticking up from his head in all directions and with a loose tunic thrown on over his sleeping trousers. He glanced around and saw that the only people missing were Merlin and Morgana. He rolled his eyes and prayed to the Goddess that they were simply too deeply asleep for the guards to rouse quickly. He didn't want to think about any other reason why they would be late to an emergency meeting. Not if he wanted to keep his supper in his belly.

The two in question were but a moment behind him and as they took their seats Arthur wondered at why Morgana was wearing a high necked and long sleeved gown in this heat. His thoughts were interrupted as Elyan stood up and tossed a small scroll across the table to him. Arthur took the note and read it slowly before falling into his seat in shock.

"What does it say, sire?" Gaius asked worriedly. "Has something happened?"

Arthur looked at the old physician with sad eyes. "Yes, Gaius. I'm afraid so. According to this missive two night ago there was a raid on a Druid village by unknown assailants."

The listeners gasped in concern and began talking over one another before Arthur raised a hand to quiet them. "There's more. Mordred and his men were in the village at the time. Because of their heroism the villagers were able to escape with their lives. But," Here Arthur closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before he could continue. "But all of Mordred's men were killed and Mordred is missing."

"No!" Morgana cried and reached out to hold Merlin's hand in despair. "Not Mordred! We have to find him! What else does the missive have to say? Do the druids know where he was taken?"

Arthur passed the note to her with an anguished expression. "According to the chieftain they tracked the men as far as they could but lost them after only a league. The men must have been very experienced to prevent Druid trackers from following their tracks. I'm afraid we have no way to know where Mordred is or if he is even ali-."

Morgana cut Arthur off before he could finish the thought. "No! Don't even say it, Arthur! I refuse to believe that he is dead. Do you hear me! He is alive and he needs to be rescued! We must begin searching immediately!" She turned to her husband frantically. "Merlin! Run to our rooms and fetch my scrying crystal! I must find him!"

Merlin shared a look with Arthur and at the King's nod he left the council chambers to fetch the item for his wife. When he returned Gwen was in his usual seat and was holding a weeping Morgana. Gently running her back and whispering soothing words to the seer. Merlin set the crystal before his wife and took Gwen's usual seat without saying a word. As soon as he was seated, Arthur turned and gave him another look. Merlin leaned close and whispered so that only his friend could hear, "Maybe. She's ones of the most gifted seers in the kingdom but this isn't about premonitions. She's going to try scrying for a single person in an unknown location. It's immeasurably more difficult than, say, scrying a known location to see what is currently happening. But you know she has to try."

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder and turned to Morgana. In an unusually solicitous voice he asked, "Sister, is there anything you need from us while you scry?"

Morgana lifted her head and started in surprise at seeing the crystal on the table in front of her. Wiping the tears from her eyes she shook her head. "No," she said in a small voice. "I just need to focus on Mordred."

Twenty six pairs of eyes focused on the seer as she cradled the large crystal gently, as though it were a child. Her downcast eyes glowed gold and a soft white light began to emanate from the crystal. She became perfectly still as she called upon her powers to look for their missing friend. She stared into the crystal for nearly fifteen minutes before her eyes closed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Raggedly she whispered, "I see only darkness."


	3. A Golden Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for letting this sit idle for so long! I don’t know how frequent updates will be so please bear with me! It’s about to get pretty dark. You’ve been warned and I’m so sorry. I don’t have a beta so all mistakes are on me. Still don’t own anyone you recognize.

Mordred flew above endless windswept valleys, stretching his arms to their fullest and reveling in the feeling of sliding effortlessly through the driving wind. To either side of him him the last crumbling remnants of ancient mountains clawed futilely to the earth that slowly swallowed their long-broken strength. Exposed rock bones standing out darkly between a cloudless blue sky above and the endless emerald grass below. He flew on, sweeping over glass-still lakes and breaking their perfection by dragging a finger along the surface, scattering his grinning reflection along the rippling water as schools of fish fanned out in every direction. Swooping low over massive fields of vivid violet wildflowers to breathe in their faint, clean perfume as he passed. And endlessly the music repeated in his mind. That soft, husky voice singing to him of bravery, and strength, and patience. Of persevering through the hardship and coming through the other side, cleansed by the flames of his trials. The soft lilt and cadence of the words serving as their own drumbeat that pulsated in time with his heart. Driving him forward. Feeding strength into his very bones.

 

All too soon he saw his destination emerge from the swirling mists ahead. Banking slightly to the right with a deep sigh, he veered towards the concentric rings of standing stones. Tall and proud and perfect in the midst of the untamed wildness surrounding them. Interlaced lines and sinuous curves carved deeply into their surfaces. Prayers and praise to the Triple Goddess, here called the One Mother. At the base of each stone were offering to Her. Fruits and grains heaped at the base of one massive stone. At another brightly colored flowers and vines. At still another finely wrought jewelry of precious metal with glittering jewels inlaid. On and on it went as each of Her aspects was praised in turn. In the center of the standing stones was a large flat stone disk, devoid of decoration. With deep gouges cut haphazardly into the edges. It was there that he landed heavily, raising his head to the sky and screaming his burning presence to the empty countryside. His dance was complete. He was ready to start the battle anew.

 

Between one heartbeat and the next he knew he was awake, though the dream was slow to leave him. The freedom and wild beauty of his dream stayed in the forefront of his mind. As did the song and it’s message of strength and patience. There was a faint orange glow behind his swollen eyelids which was the only indication of light around him. As it always did, with consciousness the pain came roaring back to life and he opened cracked and cut lips to give a weak moan that came out more like a high whine from an animal that had been hurt. A cup of weak broth was put to his lips and he drank greedily. Grateful for even this meager sustenance.

 

“Not too fast, Sir Knight,” a harsh voice laughed. “Wouldn’t want to spill this feast all over your fancy clothes, eh?” The hoarse laugh gave way to wet, hacking coughing before the man spit on the floor, mucus and spittle splashing up and hitting Mordred’s leg where it lay on the filthy stone floor.

 

Mordred ignored the voice and the warm feel of the man’s spittle sliding down his leg. Instead he concentrated on not missing a drop of the precious and life-giving broth. His armor and weapons had long since been wrenched from his body and he was wearing only a dirty loincloth. He winced in fresh pain as the chains that bound his hands, neck, and ankles rubbed against his skin and reopened partially healed cuts and scrapes as he drank. Fresh blood welling up thickly and slowly oozing from the wounds.

 

His keeper tsked in annoyance. “Those don’t look good, Sir Knight,” he mocked. “I’d better tend your wounds. The master will be ever so cross with us if you die from blood poisoning and he doesn’t get to enjoy the pleasure of your fine company anymore.”

 

It was always the same. They left the dirty wounds to fester and bleed overnight, preventing him from getting any truly restful sleep. If Mordred had been able to open his eyes he would have leveled his tormenter with a baleful glare. Instead the best he could do was shake his head in denial. If he had the strength he would have pulled together the ragged scraps of his magic to lash out against the man. But his tormentors clearly knew how to render magic users powerless. He suspected that the very broth he was greedily drinking was laced with something that was preventing him from using more than the bare minimum of his magic. He had thought long about it and his theory was that they thought him completely without power. And he wouldn’t correct that misconception. They less they knew the better.

 

“Oh yes, Sir Knight. Yes indeed. You’re to be gifted with another visit from the Master very shortly. Aren’t you grateful for his kind attention?” The man cackled wetly in Mordred’s ear. His hateful voice and fetid breath slamming into the knight and assaulting him anew.

 

Mordred couldn’t stop another high whine from escaping, though he was loathe to show even that much weakness to the faceless monster with him. Neither could he hide the gasp of relief as a healing balm was applied to every wound on his body. The cool gel infused with the very magic these people loathed knit his flesh back together. A temporary state, Mordred was all too aware. The application took some time as there was hardly an inch of skin that had not been beaten, sliced, burned, or broken as his torturers had tried to get information from him.

 

But he had stayed firm. Not responding to any of their demands. Not responding to their sweet whispered promises of relief if he would only give them the information they needed. How many knights did Camelot have? How many of that number had magic? What defenses did the city have? Who were their mysterious allies? What treasures lay within the famed vaults under the citadel? Their questions were as endless as their jeers. Their taunts that Camelot had not come for him. That his King didn’t even care enough to request his release. Mordred knew the truth. Arthur likely had no idea where to find him but by now surely knew that he had been captured. He knew in his heart that Arthur and the rest of his friends, his family, were doing everything in their considerable power to bring him home. What he needed to do now was endure and wait.

 

Mordred realized as he mused on how far the inevitable rescue plan had progressed that he had no true idea how long he had been held captive. He had counted the days at first. Though in the depths of the dungeon the only manner he had for telling the time was what he overheard from his captors. What he did know was that this would mark the fifth time he would be brought before the Master. Or was it the sixth? He would have to ask his beloved Sanity when next they spoke.

 

“There we go, Sir Knight,” his keeper said with that falsely sincere obsequience. “All done. Aren’t you grateful for the Master’s kindness? Now you just relax. Your escort will be here for you any moment now.”

 

The anticipation was a part of the game they played with him. Letting him know that he would be brought to the master ‘any moment now’ only for the actual time before he was questioned and tortured to vary wildly. Keeping him in an exhausting state of constant anticipation. Knowing that did not, however, make the wait any less terrifying.

* * *

The first time they had spoken Cait had nearly washed her hands of the stranger immediately. She was in no position to borrow trouble as she had more than enough of her own. She had barely made it into the city. Clinging desperately to the bottom of a vegetable cart. Cloaking herself in shadows and absolutely covered in the mud and dung the swaybacked horses had somehow managed to fling up onto her as they trudged down the muddy path that was the sad excuse for a road. She had waited until full dark before carefully unclenching her cramped hands and edging into a quiet barn. She had skittered up into the hayloft and dove into a pile of fresh hay. Here her stench would go unnoticed and the hay was the softest thing she had lain on since leaving Fortriu. She’d slept deeply and it wasn’t until the following afternoon that she’d been awakened by a voice inside her head. At first she had thought it a strange dream. But eventually it had filtered through her stuttering awareness that there was another magic user somewhere in or near the city. And he was in trouble.

 

But her mission wouldn’t wait for her to single handedly rescue some Knight she’d never met. Though it saddened her, his troubles were not and could not be her own. She had said a small prayer to the One Mother for him and prepared to block him from her mind. But then he had invoked the golden dragon of Camelot and she knew it had to be a sign.

 

She’d come south to learn all she could about the busy little Kingdoms that traders so often brought word of when they came to her clan. And as she had worked her way through the various Kingdoms she had learned terrible things, indeed. Many of the leaders here such as that wretched Alined and the terrifying Odin cared not for their subjects. They cared only for gold and their hatred of magic. Magic such as Cait’s own.

 

She’d stayed in Essetir for two terrifying weeks. Using a fortuitously discovered network of dusty and obviously forgotten secret passages to move unseen through King Lot’s castle and overhearing his plans to somehow band together with his like-minded allies to take down Camelot.

 

For these men Camelot was synonymous with pure evil. A place where wicked mages walked freely through streets paved with the gold that rightly belonged to Lot and his allies. Gold stolen with enchanter’s illusions of miracles that could obviously not exist. Gold that his peasants spent going to pilgrimages to Camelot instead of paying his perfectly reasonable taxes. It all came back to gold for Lot and those like him. Gold and the hatred of the magic they had been born without.

 

There had been a few bright spots. Mercia, Gawant, and Caerlon had been a delight. And Nemeth had been a warm and picturesque place with kind and honest people ruled with love and fairness. These allies of Camelot were clearly well liked by their peoples and well cared for. As opposed to the pit of a city she was currently in. And she was in grave danger every moment she stayed in this place. She had planned to make her stay here as brief as possible. Until the Knight had invoked the golden dragon.

 

Mordred had no way of knowing what the golden dragon meant to her people. But he had claimed it as the symbol of Camelot. The same Camelot that traders in the past months had been excitedly gossiping about. A place where magic users were welcomed. A perfect land of milk and honey where all were welcomed to live in the endless bounty of the blessed kingdom. It sounded like complete rubbish and Cait intended to find out for herself after her mission here was completed.

 

A mission that had become more complicated when in the days after stealthily sneaking into the kingdom and hearing Mordred’s voice in her head, she had learned that the King had closed the borders and that anyone attempting to leave would be killed on sight. And so she waited. Her reconnaissance interrupted by Mordred’s call every day. Her sleep fitful as she pushed the Knight into a more restful dreamstate each night.

 

But the wait had not gone unrewarded. She’d intercepted a missive that gave her a sense of deep relief. An assessment of the threats of Albion to the king here. In it, her homeland had been given no name at all. And her people referred to as simply the barbaric Picts. Uninteresting, uneducated, and of neither interest nor concern. Rather than being insulted to see her people so dismissed she had nearly laughed out loud with sheer joyful relief. They were, for now, safe from the power-hungry lords of the South.

 

But Camelot. Camelot she was more curious about. Would they be a threat? A potential ally? And so in the guise of helping the Knight retain his mind she had asked him to tell her about his home. His friends. And he had been extraordinarily forthcoming. And over the past few days she had filled journals with her notes on this place. Her Mother would be thrilled with all of the information she’d gained.

 

So why was she still here? Why had she not slipped into the shadows and moved back north to her home? But she couldn’t lie to herself. She knew. She wasn’t going anywhere until Mordred was safely back home with his family. Thought how that would happen only the One Mother knew.

 

What had begun as simply gathering information from an easy source had become something much more. In joining minds with Mordred she had seen his pure and gallant soul. His humour despite his circumstances. In his evident love for him family, his friends, and his Kingdom. He was witty, and charming. As a Knight of Camelot she knew that he would be braw. After she had starting bringing him into the dreamstate she had seen what he thought he looked like. And even with his modesty skewing his image she knew that he would be bonny. Aye she knew why she was still here. Because she had found a man unlike any she had even known. And each moment their minds were joined was a bittersweet joy, tempered with the knowledge that they were both in very real danger and each minute could be their last.

* * *

As his tormentor closed and locked the bars to hs cell, Mordred deepened his breathing and sent out a mental call to his dear Sanity. For the first time he was answered almost immediately.

 

_“I didna think to hear from ye again so soon after ye awoke from the dreamstate.“_ She spoke with her honey and spirits voice. Affection and gentle chastisement in her tone.

 

Mordred could have wept in relief at hearing the familiar gentle brogue. As always it took him far from the dank dungeon and brought to mind warm firelight and lounging languidly upon plush furs while drinking mulled wine. _“Sanity. My dear Sanity. I was worried you wouldn’t hear me.”_

 

_“I’ve told ye before, Mordred. Please call me Cait.”_ With her strong accent it sounded to Mordred that her name was Keht. It had taken them awhile to work through the barrier of their accents, for all that they both spoke the common tongue.

 

_“My dear lady I would call you the Goddess Herself if I didn’t know her voice as well as my own and know that you are not She. You have saved my mind and should I ever escape from this place you will have me as your devoted servant for the remainder of my days.”_

 

Cait laughed softly to herself. Imagining the braw Knight following her around her home and offering to help carry the carcasses of the stags she felled and watching out to preserve her maidenly virtue from the advances of unsavory men. It was so ridiculous as to be laughable. But then again the thought of said advances coming from that same bonny Knight was enough to send a pleasurable shiver down her body. _“There isna any call for all of that, Mordred. I’ve done naught but chat with you from time to time. Surely nothing any other could have done. You owe me nothing.”_

 

_“Ahh but that’s where you’re mistaken, fair lady. For I owe you everything. And I will gladly deliver on my promise if you would just please make the trek to Camelot and let them know where I’m being held. Cait, I need this. I need you. Please help me.”_

Cait sighed and pulled the shadows more securely around her hiding place. Every day it was the same plea to find a way to get information on his whereabouts to Camelot. But she also knew that her presence in his mind was giving him the strength to endure his torture. She couldn’t bear the thought of him slipping away while she was running away from him! _“Mordred, I feel what every lash they put upon ye does to ye. Do ye feel that ye can withstand them if I’m no in yer mind with ye?”_ Oh dear. She hadn’t meant to let that slip.

 

His shock and anger were palpable through their bond. _“Cait. You can actually feel what’s happening to my body? Why didn’t you ever tell me this? I insist that you stop immediately! I know that I’m asking you to risk your safety for me but at least you won’t be feeling torture every day! In any event, I insist that you stay out of my head while they’re questioning me. I can’t live with the fact that they’re hurting you through me.”_ He sighed and dropped his head to his chest. _“Cait listen. Every day it’s getting harder for me to hold on. You must see that. Please. Please get word to Camelot.”_

  
Cait closed her eyes with a sigh. There was really only one thing to say at this point and they both knew it. _“Aye, Mordred. For ye I will try. And if I dinnae make it I will see ye beneath the shelter of the One Mother’s arms.”_ A tear slid slowly from a large brown eye  at the thought of what she was about to risk. And what would happen if she failed. _“Farewell, my Knight.”_


	4. A Crisis and a New Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own anyone you recognize. All mistakes are mine and make me cringe when I see them. Enjoy!

"Merlin, I love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be but by the Goddess Herself if you tell me to calm myself one more time I will set you afire where you stand," Morgana's voice could have cut stone as she whirled in her pacing to pierce her husband with a glare that would have sent a lesser man running for safety. Her spring green eyes glowed gold briefly and a small gust of icy wind moved out from her, rustling the heavy tapestries that lined the high stone walls and knocking over several empty pewter goblets that were sitting forgotten amongst the remnants of the day's luncheon.

Several of the lower ranking knights that were in the dining hall were, in fact, lesser men. Opting to remove themselves from the mercurial Seer's proximity so as not to take collateral damage in the event that she followed through with her threat. Quietly muttering about urgent business that had to be attended to immediately they scrambled to their feet they made their way out of the large doors at the end of the cavernous hall as quickly and quietly as fully grown men wearing fifty pounds of steel chain-mail and plate on their bodies could.

Undaunted by his wife and mildly amused at the exodus, the Warlock to whom the threat was aimed merely folded his arms over his chest, tilted his head to the side, and raised a single black eyebrow. "We will find him. Twelve of the fifteen groups of men we sent out have reported back. There will be some sign of him. He will find a way to get word to us. You have to trust him, Morgana. He isn't a little boy anymore. He is a man fully grown, an Elite Knight, and the leader of the Spellswords of Camelot."

The strength seemed to seep from Morgana and she collapsed onto the nearest bench. She pulled her feet up and looped her arms around her knees as she drew them up to her chest. She seemed to shrink into a tiny ball of misery swathed in iridescent green silk. Looking up at her husband, she whispered, "Merlin, what if the reason we haven't been able to find him is that he isn't there to find?"

He knelt beside her and gently laid a hand on her arm. His deep blue eyed held her fixated as he asked, "If that is what you fear, why have you not looked to the spirit realm for your answer? You know well the spells to speak with the departed." Merlin pushed her, his tone even and confident but in no way placating or sympathetic. She didn't need softness right now or she would fall into it. She needed to be reminded of her own strength.

"Because I fear what I will learn, and you well know it!" She admitted bitterly as she stood up and resumed her pacing. With each whirling turn her hair would escape more of the morning's sloppy confinement, swirling around her shoulders in a dark waterfall interspersed with small braids that had lost their ribbons and chimes days ago. "This limbo without knowing means that there is still the possibility of finding him and bringing him home. But to learn for certain he has passed would mean having to deal with that as fact. I will gladly take this uncertainty where hope yet remains rather than risk a certainty with none at all."

"And what would you have us do that we have not already done?" He asked in that same even tone. Giving no indication of his mounting irritation despite feeling much the same as his wife. But they could only afford for one of them to give in to emotions and she had more than earned the right with the love she had lavished on the missing man many years ago when he had been just a scared little boy. "We have sent ravens to all of our allies and their responses showed that they had no knowledge of his whereabouts. We have sent groups of men to search the countryside and into the neighboring kingdoms. Nearly all of them have returned with no news. You have spent nearly every waking moment of this past week scrying. What would you have us do that we have not already done?"

"I don't know!" She exploded in frustration as heated tears threatened to fall. Angrily she dashed them away. Her hands shook so hard that the rings and bracelets she hadn't bothered to remove in the past few days chimed in discordant merriment. A jarring counterpoint to the tomb-like silence in the empty hall. She pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder and began nervously braiding it with jerky, graceless movements of her usually nimble fingers. "There must be something more we can do. Some way to amplify my scrying abilities..."

Merlin nodded in agreement as he resumed his own pacing, long pale fingers stroking his neatly trimmed inky beard in deep thought. They had spoken with the great seer and leader of their allies the Atzinganoi, Vadoma, days ago and she had been happy to lend her considerable skills to the effort. Sadly, with the same lack of results. Even linked, the two seers had not been able to sense even the slightest hint of Mordred's whereabouts. And so Morgana was limited to her small scyring crystal when she was awake. And her prescient dreams never had been something she could control. He could see no way to help her focus her dreams. If only he could get her a bigger... Merlin stopped his pacing and paused as an idea came to him. He turned to his wife with a more animated expression on his face than she had seen since they learned of Mordred's disappearance. "Morgana! Do you remember last winter when we needed to contact Vadoma and didn't have the time to travel to her encampment?"

Morgana's eyes narrowed briefly as she recalled their struggle to reach the Crystal Caves through the unusually deep snows that had blanketed the forest last winter. Merlin's fear for her even entering the caves with their countless glittering crystals embedded in the walls. Each shard reflecting a possible future. Fear that she would be transfixed by the visions and that her mind would be lost to them for all time. She remembered Taliesin leading them to the massive crystal that Merlin had used to communicate with Vadoma. Her eyes widened in understanding and she beamed in pride and gratitude at Merlin. It just might work! It was certainly preferable to at least try rather than to simply repeat the same efforts that had yielded no results.

In two quick strides she was in front of him. She launched herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Winding her arms tightly around his neck she hugged him close and claimed his lips with her own in a deep kiss that quickly morphed from a spontaneous expression of gratitude and joy into something that burned with far more heat. Forgetting where they were and even their missing friend for a few short minutes, the lovers lost themselves in the scorching kiss. Licking into each others mouths and nipping gently on each others lips, they feasted on one another. For a small moment leaving their fear and worry behind and reveling in the swirling lust rising between them.

They didn't hear the door open or the muffled gasp followed by a groan of disgust. They didn't hear the whispered incredulous muttering that followed. They didn't hear the clearing of a throat that echoed in the large dining hall. They did, however, hear the irritated, "Oh come off it you two! This is neither the time nor the place for a revolting display of this sort! Merlin put my sister down this instant! Have you no sense of decorum? No shame? Stop that immediately!"

They slowly broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes in perfect accord for the space of a few thundering heartbeats as Morgana unhooked her legs from Merlin's waist and slowly slid down his body, the friction causing new gooseflesh to rise on her skin and pulling a deep grunt from Merlin. They would revisit this as quickly as could be allowed.

Morgana held onto Merlin's arms and peeked around him to the source of the voice spewing derision at them. "Big brother!" She called brightly. Her voice clear of pain and doubt for the first time since they had learned of their friend's disappearance. "Merlin's had a brilliant idea and we will be gone for a few days! I think we may have a way to find Mordred!"

Instantly Arthur's feigned disgust fled his features and all joking was put aside. He stood taller, squared his broad shoulders, and the playful big brother morphed back into the King. "Tell me immediately. What do you need from me to make this happen?"

* * *

"My lady! My lady please stop! This came for you," the courier panted as he raced across the training yard. The poor young man with the too large feet and the too small eyes was so focused on reaching the young priestess quickly that in his haste he tripped over one of Percival's large boots that had been carelessly dropped on the ground and barely caught himself before he fell. He awkwardly flailed his arms and stumbled the last few feet before skidding to a halt by Percival and Leheya as they sparred.

Hearing the commotion, Leheya immediately pulled back before her kick could connect with the hay filled target Percival was holding for her. While she trained daily to hone her magical skills, Percival had stressed to her the importance of maintaining her martial skills as well. There were ways to cut people off from their magic and he was determined that she not rely too heavily on a power that could be taken from her. Likewise while she still trained with a bow and with a set of short swords, she trained hardest with no weapon at all. It was still a dangerous world and she would be a fool to believe the current peace would last. Percival was vigilant in her training and she knew that he would be mildly irritated at this awkward interruption for all that he would never show it to anyone but her. Sharing a bemused look with him, she spun around and took the scroll from the courier's outstretched hand.

She didn't bother correcting the heavily panting young man's incorrectly addressing her as a lady. In the months since leaving her Druid clan and coming to live at Camelot as a Priestess of the Triple Goddess she had grown accustomed to being treated with deference and Morgana had firmly instructed her not to correct people. She was a trained High Priestess, afterall. She would be in charge of running the temple complex and the town on the Isle of the Blessed. She was acting in every capacity that a high born lady would when charged with running a keep. More than most, in fact. As she would be leading prayer services and personally blessing the crops. Never again would she be the wild young girl racing through the forests with twigs and leaves tangled hopelessly in her red curls as she searched for the end of a rainbow.

She inspected the scroll in her hand. Her name was written in sloppy script that was barely legible but the hastily pressed seal was unmistakably an oak leaf. It was from the Isle. Quickly she broke the green wax and unrolled the scroll to read the message that had been written either with great haste or by someone who was barely literate.

_High Priestess,_

_There is an illness that has come to the Isle in these past weeks that none of our healers can cure. The affected came down ill at roughly the same time. They would lose the contents of their stomachs and be unable to eat more than bread and water. Then came the feeling of bugs crawling all over their bodies when clearly none could be seen. Then came the convulsions. My lady we have had several people die! I beseech you to come as quickly as possible and to interceded to the Triple Goddess on our behalf for none of our prayers have worked._

_Your humble Steward,_

_Uveryl_

She read the short message twice before handing it to Percival with a concerned look on her face. She closed her brown eyes to formulate a preliminary plan of action. Briefly she considered sending for Morgana but her mentor was so distraught over Mordred's disappearance that Leheya didn't feel right bringing yet another crisis to her attention. And in any event, Leheya was for all practical purposes finished with her training. The only thing holding her back from traveling to the Isle to take her place as High Priestess was fear. And she couldn't afford fear when her people needed her. First things first she would need to consult with the experts on illness. She opened her eyes and nodded to herself. She turned to the courier who was giving her a look of obvious curiosity, thanked him gently for delivering the message in such a swift manner, and politely ordered him to fetch Gaius and Alice from the school and to have them meet her in their rooms immediately.

Percival had finished reading the short message and handed it back to her with a somber expression. "I'll pack our things and arrange for horses. What is your plan?"

* * *

"I'm coming with you," Arthur announced. He was standing in the field just south of the city where Kilgharrah and Aithusa felt most comfortable landing with Merlin, Morgana, and the quickly collected Vadoma as they waited for the dragons to arrive. The wide area was noticeably without the leaves that were beginning to blanket the grounds as the weather turned cooler. "Mordred is my Knight and my friend. I'll not be left behind while the two of you go running off."

Vadoma pulled her satchel tightly against her side and moved slightly away from the King, the Warlock, and the Seer. This was between the three of them and she'd not intrude.

"And what if word comes of Mordred's whereabouts while you're away from the city?" Merlin asked pointedly. As much as he loved his friend and wanted him to accompany them, he was the King and as such had duties that couldn't be left.

Arthur scoffed and waved his hand to dismiss his friend's argument. "Gwen is fully capable of running this kingdom without me and has, in fact, done just that on more than one occasion." His teasing tone fled and the light in his eyes dimmed as he continued somberly, "If you find any hint of his whereabouts I want to be there. I have to be there. I need to know."

He looked at his sister and her husband, unsure why he was asking their permission. He was their King and had every right to give them orders. But since witnessing the raw power they held both during the battle against Elolam and again when they rebuilt the entire Isle and temple complex he had come to respect the two of them as more than family or friends, but as incredibly powerful magic users that deserved to be recognized as such. Not that he would ever actually vocalize that to anyone but Gwen. He had too many years of habit to fall back on for that to ever really happen. But none the less this was a matter of high magic and thus they were the final decision makers.

Morgana looked as though she was wavering. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "If you want to come with us then you're welcome to, of course." Arthur's victorious grin had barely spread across his handsome features before it slid away as she continued. "I'm certain that the additional delay of gathering your belongings and calling a round table meeting to notify the court of your absence, give instructions on who is to take on which responsibilities in your absence, and convince Gwen to let you leave on a potentially dangerous mission while she is pregnant won't have any negative consequences."

Sometimes he really hated his sister and wondered why he had welcomed her back to Camelot at all.

He shook her hand off of his arm and pointed a stern finger at both his sister and brother-in-law. "Fine," he relented without even the slightest hint of grace. "You've made your point, damn you. But you find a way to come back quickly, safely, and with good news. That's a direct order from your King. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," they spoke together as they inclined their heads and tapped their staves on the ground simultaneously. There was a feeling of warmth over his body and he couldn't help but wonder what exactly they had done to him.

Unfortunately, two large dragons landed heavily on the ground and trumpeted greetings to their humans before he could question them further. The three mages paused and looked to him for his final blessing for their mission. "Yes yes, you go with the blessings of Camelot and all that rot. Just hurry home!" he warned as the three moved towards the dragons and climbed on their backs. Morgana on her beloved white Authusa while Merlin and Vadoma rode on the larger Kilgharrah.

Within moments they were airborne and little more than specks in the sky as they flew towards the Crystal Caves. Arthur turned and trudged back to the city, glad that he hadn't brought any knights with him to witness the suspicious wetness in his eyes. Damn spring wildflowers always made his eyes itch.

* * *

Percival mentally checked this last item off of his list as he handed the last of the satchels to the stablemaster with a warning that the contents were quite fragile and thanked him again for arranging for four horses so quickly. He left with a promise to return in all haste and began swiftly walking across the courtyard and back into the castle. Leheya had doubtless already spoken with Gaius and Alice but they would probably need another set of hands to carry things. He was happy to help in any way that expedited their leaving.

So deep in thought was he as he reviewed what he would need to do once they arrived on the Isle that he very nearly walked right into the Queen who was on one of her daily walks that Alice had recommended. "Good day to you, Sir Percival!" Gwen said with a warm laugh as she nimbly stepped aside to prevent a collision. Her wide smile dropped as she took in the knight's somber expression. "What has happened and what do you need from me?" She asked with no preamble. There was no need for flowery words between friends and clearly there was something seriously amiss for the genial giant to have such stormclouds on his normally placid face.

"We've just received word that there is an illness on the Isle. Leheya is gathering Alice and Gaius and sharing what little information we have as we speak. We're leaving as soon as possible." He wasted no words and offered his arm to his Queen. He didn't need to ask if she would want to accompany him. Even heavy with pregnancy Gwen was a force to be reckoned with and she would doubtless have wise counsel.

The Queen took his arm and the two swiftly made their to the rooms Gaius and Alice shared. As they entered the rooms they were briefly taken aback by the flurry of activity as the two elderly but spry physicians packed countless vials, paper-wrapped packages, scrolls, and books into satchels. Gwen dropped Percival's arm and ignoring the chaos around her, picked up an empty satchel before moving to the heavy wardrobe along one wall and packing clothes for the two physicians. She had known Gaius for far too long to believe that he would consider such a minor thing as his own wardrobe while there was a medical crisis. But there was no way of knowing how long they would be gone and he couldn't very well wear the same clothes for weeks on end. The weather was only getting colder as Samhain approached and the heatwave of the last week was only a fond memory now.

Leheya caught Percival's eyes and gave him a look of approval and gratitude for bringing the Queen. He flushed and shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't done anything extraordinary. He moved over to the tiny bird-like frame of his lady and leaned down to whisper to her, "Do they have any ideas, little sparrow?"

She shook her head and whispered back, "Not that I can tell. They each read the message and immediately began discussing it but I can only catch one word in five. I have no idea what they're really talking about. But they immediately agreed to accompany us for which I'm grateful. Did you ask the stablemaster for four horses?" At Percival's nod she continued, "Excellent thinking bringing Her Majesty along, by the way. She's already thought of something I hadn't."

Percival shook his head. "It was a chance meeting but fortuitous. She can notify the rest of the court what has happened and where we've gone. Our things are being loaded right now and I stopped by the tower to grab your formal robes and supplies in the event that magic is needed. The only thing left is to grab provisions for the four of us."

He smiled when Leheya shook her head and said, "I took care of that on my way here. The kitchens are sending ample travel rations for the four of us to the stables. The cook gave me the oddest look and made me repeat that there were four of us three times. Regardless we should be able to leave as soon as Gaius and Alice are ready."

She was interrupted by Gwen handing the large satchel she'd filled to Percival and joining the conversation. "I assume you've taken care of your own supplies and provisions already. Is there anything that I can do to help?"

Percival looked to Leheya. This was her decision. The Priestess smiled nervously at the Queen of Camelot and shook her head. She was still in awe of the woman. "I can't think of anything else. Gaius and Alice are the experts and they seem to have be nearly finished with gathering their supplies. Thank you ever so much for thinking to gather clothing for them. I feel certain that we would all have forgotten until we had gone too far to return."

Gwen laughed gently. "You're likely exactly right. Gaius is like a small dog with a large bone when he has a mystery to solve but he had a tendency to forget the small things like eating and sleeping. From what I've seen Alice is just like him. You'll have to keep a sharp eye on them both."

Leheya knew an order when she heard one. Even framed gently and delivered with laughter. She nodded firmly, "Yes, Your Majesty. I understand and I'll see them returned to you safely."

Gwen cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes slightly, "Every bit as perceptive as he is, aren't you? It would seem that what Morgana has told me is true. The two of you are well matched."

Percival grinned and wrapped an arm around Leheya's tiny waist, pulling her to his side in a brief hug. He couldn't agree more. He was prevented from commenting, however, by Gaius and Alice suddenly falling silent. The three turned and saw the two physicians with identical expectant expressions on their weathered faces.

"We are ready to leave immediately," Gaius announced.

Gwen turned to Leheya one last time, "Go. I will pray to Her for swift and safe travels for you all and a quick end to this illness. And of course I will tell Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin where you are. Now go!" She shooed the four travelers out the door. Percival quickly asked her to give the court their regrets for leaving without notice but Gwen waved his concerns away and promised to spread the news.

Alice stopped on her way through the door and turned back to the Queen. She pointedly looked at Gwen's growing stomach and looked at the Queen, silently asking for permission. When Gwen nodded Alice's eyes glowed gold and a warmth enveloped Gwen's whole body. Alice nodded firmly to herself. "I will return for the birth, My Lady. You have my word," she promised before she too turned and left. Leaving Gwen alone.

* * *

"Arthur?" Gwen called as she entered the throne room. She had looked all over for her husband and been unable to find him. Generally at this time of day he could be found in the dining hall having a late luncheon but he hadn't been there. Nor had he been in the council chambers, their suite, nor even the kitchens.

"Gwen there you are!" his voice sounded behind her. "I've been searching for you for ages!"

Gwen's brow wrinkled in concern. "Is something amiss?" She asked with a vague feeling of foreboding.

Arthur's face split in a wide smile, "Not even in the slightest! In fact, Merlin has come up with an idea that he thinks will allow Morgana to find Mordred. They left just a short while ago for the Crystal Caves, in fact. Morgana wanted me to give you her apologies for leaving so swiftly but of course you understand their urgency."

Gwen's face dropped as she took in his words. That meant….

Arthur put a hand on her cheek in concern, "Gwen why aren't you smiling? This is the first new idea anyone has had in days. I would have thought you would share our excitement and hope."

Gwen put her hand over her husband's and smiled sadly. "Yes of course. But I need to let you know, Gaius and Alice have just left with Percival and Leheya for the Isle. They received word of a terrible illness and immediately went to help. Percival wanted me to give you his apologies for leaving so swiftly but of course you understand their urgency."

She saw the moment the implications of what she had said sunk in. "We've let all of the magic users on the Round Table Council leave within an hour of each other. There's nobody but some half trained spellswords left to defend Camelot from magical threats. We can only pray that She is watching over us and protecting us well in their absence.


	5. Slipping Through Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sincere THANK YOU to those who enjoy this series! I'm so sorry I've been away. I will try to update more frequently! Still don't own anyone you recognize. All mistakes are mine and make me cringe when I see them. Enjoy!

Cait dropped to her knees in exhausted relief. The gleaming white stone of Camelot's renowned citadel had finally came into view on the horizon. There was no way for her to make out the symbols on the flying pennants. She was still too far away. But there was no doubt in her mind that she had found the right place. Mordred's memory was clear in her mind. And with it, the deep feeling of love and belonging that the view brought. Home. This was his home. His heart. His family. Tears stung her eyes as she rested for a few precious minutes. Finally she had crossed into the borders of Camelot. Soon she would be able to get her urgent message to the King and his Round Table.

For six days she had worked her way through the ancient forests that separated Sarrum's kingdom from Camelot. Sarrum had many patrols in place to prevent people from reaching the neighboring kingdom. To her dismay, the men had been both organized and professional. Each day she'd cloaked herself in shadows. Unable to make much forward progress. She'd crept with agonizing slowness in the general direction of Mordred's home. There had been so many near-misses that she couldn't recall distinct moments any longer. They blurred together in a hectic swirl.

What she would never forget was the one time Sarrum's men had spotted her. She had been foolish and tired. For four days she'd remaining in a near constant state of alertness with fitful naps and little to eat . She had been too slow in moving from one patch of shadows to the next. One heartbeat too slow. She'd heard a man sound the alert even as an arrow had clipped her neck. It would take too long and leave her too exposed to climb the tree as she had planned. There had been nothing to do but run.

And so she had, weaving between ancient trees and leaping over obstacles and she raced for her life. As she'd approached a slow-moving stream Cait had known she'd found her chance. For the moment her pursuers were out of range. She'd grabbed a large rock and heaved it out as far as she could throw, causing a large splash near the opposite bank. Running upstream a short ways she'd slid into a hollow log. Ignoring the thick slime and years of detritus filling the cavity and pulling it over her head as she pulled deep shadows to her.

Situated as she was she couldn't see what was happening. A gamble she'd taken only due to desperation. Mere moments later she'd heard the men as they burst from the trees near her original position. She'd held her breath as if even the soft puffs would alert the men to her position. Heart hammering in her chest she'd waited to hear if her ruse had been successful.

"Where'd the git go then?"

"Split up men! Search the river!"

"No. Look! She ran through the river. You can still see the water churned up across the way. We've got her now. With me!"

Bone-deep relief had flooded her with giddy energy as she'd heard the men splash into the stream. Unable to believe that she'd escaped, and fearful that the men would retrace their steps she'd remained in the log for an hour. Only when the sun had set without a sign of her pursuers had she risked leaving her hiding spot.

That had been two days past. She'd ranged far from her original path in her efforts to remain undetected. But she had finally made it to Camelot.

Now that she could see the scale of the citadel for herself she felt another wave of insecurity wash over her. It was well known that the castle and its residents utilized powerful wards for protection. It was home to Emrys himself and his High Priestess wife. The thought the powerful magic users terrified her regardless of the fondness with which Mordred spoke of them.

If anyone saw her before she could deliver her message she was in grave mortal danger. From not only the warlock and his sorceress, but from the sharp blades of the elite knights they called friends. There had to be a way to get the message to them without placing herself in a position to become a prisoner or worse if they didn't believe her. With every day that passed she feared more for Mordred. Without her there to share the burden of the torture how long could he survive?

Cait squared her shoulders and staggered back to her feet. There was only one way to go. Forward. Everything else would take care of itself. She need only adapt and maintain her momentum. She had faith that the All Mother was watching over her and wouldn't let her fall. Not before she was able to deliver her message.

* * *

"It's been two days since we've heard from Merlin and Morgana. So no, I will not remain calm! I cannot believe they neglected to bring even a single messenger raven with them! They've sent that dragon, the feisty one, with messages before. Can they not do the same now?" Arthur ranted long and with impressive range as he met with the bare remains of his Round Table. Only Leon, Elyan, and Gwaine remained with the King and Queen.

Gwen pulled a rolled piece of parchment from the the large stack before her and handed it to her husband. "No. We haven't heard from them. But we have received word from Percival. This arrived as I was on my way to the meeting."

The King took the rolled letter from his Queen and furrowed his brow. "Don't think you've changed the subject. We will be returning to the subject of what poor communicators my sister and that man she married are. But in the meantime let's see what our Ambassador has to say."

He broke the red wax bearing Percival's personal seal and unrolled the letter.

Your Majesty,

Matters on the Isle of the Blessed are grave. Leheya's steward, Uveryl, did not overstate the severity of the situation. One fourth of the residents are stricken with this illness. Gaius and Alice have expressed concern that this could spread to Camelot and asked Leheya to impose a ban on travel. For all persons, including ourselves. I apologize that we will not be able to take part in the search for Mordred. Should the situation change, for good or ill, I will send word immediately.

Your friend,

Percival

Arthur crumpled the parchment and with a low growl threw it across the room and into the large fireplace on the far wall. "Our friend. Our lead Spellsword is missing. Our greatest allies and our best healers are unable to leave the Isle of the Blessed. Merlin, Morgana, and Vadoma gone off somewhere we can't reach them. We've no magic users left to help in defense of the country should an attack come. It's all too convenient. There's someone behind this. Someone who knows exactly how to weaken us."

Leon shared a look with his two fellow knights. There was precious little they could do but prepare as best they could.

"Sire," Gwaine said, "If I may. While it is true that Vadoma is gone with Merlin and Morgana. I will remind you that Purah, her second-in-command remains with the Atzinganoi outside of the walls. Should we not invite them into the city to share in the protection it offers? In return I believe that we could call upon them to assist in Camelot's defense should the need arise."

Arthur gave his most mischievous Knight a hard look. "Gwaine that is an excellent recommendation. It addresses several of our most pressing issues with a single solution. Should Purah and her people agree, we would be happy to offer them protection. This offer is open regardless of the threat of attack. Because it is the right thing to do."

Gwen gave the preening Knight a small wink before adding on to her King's statement. "In fact, Arthur. I believe that you should ask Purah to serve the court in a semi-official capacity. At least until Merlin and Morgana return. We've all seen her skills in battle. She would bring a needed influx of magical strength. Should she agree, we would of course need her here in the Citadel itself. Wouldn't you agree?"

Arthur shot his wife a flat look and ignored her beaming smile. "You've quite transparent, my love." Switching his attention to Gwaine he continued, "Yes by all means ask your lady-love if she'd like to move in with you. I don't know why they two of you pretend as if you don't spend every spare moment together as it is. Although I do appreciate your discretion and ask that you mentor my sister and her husband in the art upon their return."

"I will speak with her first thing in the morning, my liege," Gwaine drawled with a smirk.

"If there's nothing else for tonight?" Arthur asked as he looked at his small council. When nobody raised any new points he called the meeting to a close. "Good. We will reconvene tomorrow to hear Gwaine's report. You're all dismissed."

* * *

A hooded figure entered Camelot in the deep twilight hours between sunset and the rising of the moon. Slipping from shadow to shadow, the intruder paused to remember the instructions given.

They'd given the colorful encampment perched along the city walls a wide berth. Their source had warned them about the the tribe that had settled in next to the city. Magic users. Dangerous if provoked and ever vigilant.

The hidden entrance had been exactly where their source had indicated it would be. What had been missing had been protective wards. The intruder had spent precious minutes testing again and again to find them. Disbelief and a sense of foreboding made the figure hurry towards their destination. Something was wrong in Camelot. Something that may or may not relate to their own task.

After evading the knights walking the halls only through sheer luck, the intruder made their way to the kitchens. With a swift look, they saw that there were two women hard at work. And what luck! The tray being set for the King's evening meal. Their source had given specific instructions on what to do with that meal.

The stranger created a distraction in the hallway. A simple matter of knocking over one of the heavy candelabras and returning to their hiding place. As the two women left to investigate the noise, the intruder slipped into the kitchens. They rushed to the King's tray to complete their mission before melting back into the shadows and away from Camelot.

It was done.

* * *

"Arthur darling you must eat something." Gwen chided as she handed her husband one of the dense rolls he favored. At his mulish look she cajoled, "For me, then. If not for yourself.

Rolling his eyes at Gwen's small smile, Arthur snagged the roll from her outstretched hand. He took an exaggerated bite into it only to spit it out in confusion. Peering at the bread he could see a rolled parchment pushed into the roll. Unrolling the parchment, the color drained from his face. Handing the small missive to his Queen, Arthur turned to the door and bellowed, "Guards! Call an emergency meeting of the Round Table!"

With shaking hands, Gwen read the message.

King Arthur,

Sir Mordred sent me to contact you. Bandits have captured him. He does not know who leads the bandits. but I was within Sarrum's Kingdom and heard his mental call. Whether it was Sarrum's men or the many bandits who make themselves at home in this dark place I cannot tell you. He heard one clue to his whereabouts though it made no sense to me. I hope that it will have meaning to you. One of the men let slip that they were taking him to "the witch's spit." We have tried to discover what that means but have not been able to find any clues. We believe it was Sarrum's men because they let slip that he is building an army to take on Camelot in the spring.

Highness please hurry. The things they are doing to your knight are terrible. I do not know how long he will be able to hold on. I wish I could stay to answer any questions that you may have but I fear for Mordred's life and I cannot stay away any longer than is necessary.

A Friend.


	6. Nowhere to Go but Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warning has been delivered. So now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own anyone you recognize. Still sorry I only update once in a blue moon. Still no beta. Still love you all for reading my schmaltzy, self-indulgent little tale!

Merlin held out a hand to assist Vadoma across a small stream. “It is only a short ways from here. We are very nearly at the cave.” He paused as she gave him a small, amused smile at the unnecessary courtesy and moved aside so that Merlin could offer the same unneeded but polite assistance to Morgana.

 

Morgana took Merlin’s offered hand and stepped over the small trickle of water with a soft smile for her love. As they continued on she drifted up and fell into step with the ancient seer that had so quickly become such a cherished friend. “Vadoma, have you ever been to the Crystal Caves? You’ve been in Albion for…” She trailed off as she came to a realization. “You know I don’t have any idea how long you’ve been here?” She cocked her head slightly to the side as she looked at their friend. Feline grace evident in her sharp green eyes.

 

The ancient immortal smiled gently at the two sorcerers with her and took the lead as they continued their walk. “Taliesin and I are acquainted, yes. I have been in Albion since the days of Vortigern. In the time of your Golden King’s grandfather. The Romans were...not kind to my people. Here in Albion we finally found a place to hide ourselves away and live in peace. Your Albion is beautiful in a way unlike any of the lands I have called home before,” she continued. Her eyes growing unfocused as she reached back through her countless years for old memories. “For one thing, I had never lived anywhere where the rain froze as it fell! That took many years to grow accustomed to, believe me!” She turned and flashed a gamine grin at her companions. The centuries falling from her unlined face as she recalled seeing snow for the first time in her long life.

 

Morgana laughed gaily but Merlin frowned at the famed Seer’s words. He had first met her people at the lowest point in his life. Exiled by Arthur after his magic had been exposed. Completely alone and desperate for a way to continue to protect his friend even in his disgrace, Merlin had sought advice from the great dragon Kilgarrah. It was he who had first told him of Vadoma. Secreted away in the deepest heart of an ancient forest.

 

It was amongst the Atzinganoi that Merlin had started the process of putting his life back together. Starting down the road that would lead to finding love with Morgana and bringing peace to Camelot. If he hadn’t met Vadoma and her people then he and Morgana wouldn’t be immortals. Wouldn’t have been able to defeat the evil that had threatened to overtake Camelot and all of Albion. Vadoma’s people had fought and died for him. For his quest. He owed her and her brave, joyful people a debt that he could truly never repay. “Your people lived in peace before I came into your lives. I brought with me nothing but bloodshed and strife,” he said softly. Bitterly. “How you must hate us all.”

 

Vadoma whirled towards the tall man, reached up and grabbed Merlin’s shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip. She pulled on his shoulder and urged him to lean down to face the stately seer’s otherworldly black eyes. “Emrys, you need to pay very close attention to what I’m about to say.” She paused until he nodded uncertainly, locking his deep blue eyes with her own. “Before I met you I was completely alone amongst my clan. Their lives are like the light of a firefly. Bright and warm but only a memory within but a moment. I am fond of each and every one of them but I cannot allow myself to truly love them. Not even those like Purah who are so very remarkable. For they’re gone in an instant and I am left to mourn them for hundreds of years.”

 

Vadoma turned and reached out to Morgana, tightly grasping the Seer’s long fair fingers in her own bronzed hand and pulling her close. “When She gifted you with life unending, She gifted me as well. For the first time in countless ages I have friends. Real friends that I will not mourn before I’ve truly come to know them.” She turned back to Merlin and took his face in her hands. Gently and affectionately  stroking the dark beard on his cheeks. “Emrys, never apologize again for coming into my life. For I am richer now in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

 

Merlin nodded solemnly. He and Morgana had of course discussed the ramifications of their immortality. They knew that they would outlive their family and friends. It was a comfort that they would always have each other. But he hadn’t truly considered what it must be like for Vadoma. Her husband had been driven insane by his unnaturally long life. He remained trapped beneath a far off sea in a prison that Vadoma had been forced to create for him. Despite living with the clan she had adopted and their descendents, the ancient seer had been truly alone for centuries. He vowed to himself that once his quest for the future of Albion had been completed that he would turn his attention to finding a way to save Vadoma’s husband. Perhaps if they all worked together they could break the madness that had claimed the man’s mind.

 

Morgana caught the trail end of Merlin’s thoughts and gave him a warm smile. She would set aside time later to begin research with Gaius and Alice. Aithusa and Kilgharra may have insights as well. But the time for that would come much later. For now they had the pressing issue of Mordred’s disappearance and the larger issue of uniting Albion. “Come,” she said gently. “We are very nearly to the cave. I’m certain that Taliesin will be able to help us find Mordred.”

 

* * *

 

For as much trouble as Cait had encountered when delivering her message to Camelot, the return trip had been far worse. Her attempts to return to Mordred had been hindered by the increased presence of armed men in the woods between Camelot and Sarrum’s kingdom. In the end she had been forced to detour far to the east into Lot’s kingdom and work her way north before tracking back into the kingdom once again hidden in the deep shadows at the bottom of a merchant’s cart. The only saving grace had been that this merchant had been delivering wool cloth and the weather was dry. For this trip she was spared the indignity of being covered in mud and surrounded by the stench of rotting vegetation.

 

Each heartbeat weighed on her. It was another moment that Mordred was alone and in grave peril. As she neared the city she sent out her mental call. Determined that the moment he was in range that her unlikely friend would know that she had returned from her task. It was as she was doing so that an idea came to her. If their mental connection was limited by distance, could she not use it to determine where he was being held? Surely by identifying the outermost range of their connection she could identify his actual whereabouts? The idea excited her but she put it aside for the time being. Her first priority was finding a way to free the Knight who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time.

 

When she finally received a weak response to her mental call she nearly wept. Only the fact that she was still hidden in her shadows and clinging to the bottom of a wagon prevented her from giving voice to her profound relief. He was alive. Anything else could be dealt with. So long as he yet lived.

 

“Sanity. Sanity is that finally you? Or have I lost my Sanity for good? Is this what madness feels like? The sweet sting of hope when all else has been ripped away? They’ve lost interest in me, Sanity. And without their interest they’ve lost the will to keep me alive. Have I lost you as well, Sanity?” His plaintive words rushed together. Clearly he had been repeating them for many days, at the least. His voice in her head sounded so very tired. So defeated. And yet so very welcomed. As weak and as thready as his mental call was. He was there. He was alive!

 

“Oh my Knight. My beautiful spirit. I’ve completed your task. Your King knows where ye are. At least as much as we know. I’m so verra sorry to have been gone from ye for sae long. Sarrum’s paranoia is reaching a new high. The woods are sae thick with patrols I’m surprised he has even a single one of his brigands left in the city.” She kept her voice even and soothing as she let him know that his quest had been completed. He was clearly on the edge of losing himself entirely. Was delivering his message worth this? Was anything? Cait was plagued with regrets. Could she have found a way to free him in the weeks she had been away? Could they even now be safely back in Camelot together if only she hadn’t agreed to go?

 

A small part of her inner turmoil must have reached Mordred despite her efforts to shield him from her personal thoughts. “Sanity. Cait. No. Listen to me. Nothing short of a miracle is going to see me leave this dark place. I know that. But without you my King would never have known. If I die this very day I will do so at peace. To think, I thought myself in your debt before. I regret only that I will not be able to repay my life debt to you. Perhaps my spirit can watch over you as my mortal self cannot”

 

He had given up! This turn of events was absolutely unacceptable. She sent her mental push hard against him. Complete with an image of her wagging her finger in his face. “Given up, hae ye? Well. In that case there’d nae be a reason for me to go about this filthy city and figure out where they’re holding ye? If ye’d rather just give up and die in there who am I tae tell ye otherwise? It’s nae as if when yer friends come from Camelot they’ll need tae know where ye are, right? I’ll just be leaving then. Heading back to Camelot as I’d planned tae before we met. Good luck to ye, Sir Mordred of Camelot. Spellsword of the Golden Dragon. May She hold ye in her loving hands as I cannae.”

 

Cait had been raised amongst the most stubborn people that the All-Mother had ever placed upon her lands. They were a proud and obstinate bunch and her mother had taught her how to deal with them her entire life. Was it a bit unfair to the poor man who had been held captive these long weeks? Absolutely. In fact, even as she sent the words she wondered if she was making the right call or if she wasn’t letting her feelings and her own stubbornness interfere where they oughtn’t. But her course was set and now she could only steer into the wind and pray for a safe landing.

 

Her unwitting driver had reached his destination and Cait once again pulled the shadows to her and crept through the narrow, filthy alleys in Sarrum’s capital city. As she dodged piles of refuse and the gaunt-eyed of children who needed to eat so desperately she compared it against what little she had seen of Camelot. Though she had only been in the city for an hour or so she had noted that the streets were clean, lit, and well maintained. There were no people sleeping in the alleys. She had passed numerous public fountains perpetually providing clean water. As she had passed into the citadel itself she had noticed candelabras lit at regular intervals throughout the hallways. That had made her task more difficult but been an impressive show of wealth, nonetheless. It seemed no coincidence that the kingdoms of Camelot and her allies were places of light while those of her enemies were lands of darkness.

 

Caught in her musings as she mentally planned to add these findings to her reports for her mother, she barely heard Mordred’s reply. She’d nearly passed beyond their mental range. “You are right. I must not give in to despair. Thank you for that.” Mordred’s mental voice held a hint of his former humor. Felt a bit stronger. Perhaps she had succeeded in driving away the darkness for now. “You mentioned that you had a plan to find me. That is something I would very much like to hear.”

 

And so Cait explained her idea and they put her plan into motion.

 

* * *

 

As her party made their way up the winding curves of the main street leading to the Temple complex, Leheya was shocked at the changes to her new home in the short months she’d been away. The bustle of fishermen at the docks was a muted, pale thing. Streets that should have bustled with the daily activity to feed and maintain a city of this size were very nearly empty.

 

As they rode through what should have been the central market she was shocked to see so few merchants with wares to sell. Only a few bakers, fishmongers, farmers, and weavers displayed their wares. Her druid sisters who had been tasked with the Isle’s protection were visible though on closer inspection many of them appeared to be nearly asleep on their feet. Were they trying to work while ill? Or was it that there were so few of them healthy that they were working themselves too hard to cover the gaps?

 

She should never have gone to Camelot to beg Morgana’s help to conquer her fear of speaking before large crowds. What could have prompted her to pack up and make the ride on nothing more than a feeling? She had abandoned her city, her people to this. If she had only been here, where she belonged, could she have prevented this from happening? Had this mysterious illness caused all of this in such a short time? What foul magic had come to this most sacred of places?

 

Leheya squared her shoulders and prepared to find out. These were her people and her responsibility. She could wallow in her doubts and fears after the mystery was solved. She twisted in her saddle to catch Alice’s eye. “So. First we check in with the steward and then start talking to the victims?”

 

It was Gaius who answered, his usual grim humor gone entirely. “Yes, my lady. In fact, I would prefer to immediately begin seeing to the victims. Time may be of the essence and any aid I can provide I’d rather not delay. But I will caution you all. Please do not eat or drink anything until we’ve found the source of this illness. We have plenty to share between us.”

 

Percival nodded in agreement. “I will take our provisions to our rooms. Leheya, do you want Gaius and Alice to have the suite adjourning mine?” As the High Priestess Leheya herself had a grand set of rooms adjacent to the grand courtyard housing the Golden Oak. Percival’s rooms were quite nice and shared a common area with a suite that did not currently have occupants.

 

Leheya surprised her companions by shaking her head. “No. For now I’d rather we all stick together. We will all be staying in my rooms. There is plenty of space and we will all be together. Gaius and Alice you are always welcome on the Isle and if you’d like, once this crisis has passed. And it will pass. Then we can assign you permanent rooms. But for now you are all staying with me.” Her tone was decisive and brooked no disagreement.

 

For his part, Percival merely nodded and as they passed through the ornate gates leading to the temple he took the horses to the stables and arranged to have their things taken to the grand chambers of the High Priestess. His relationship with Leheya was well known and he wasn’t questioned. He then moved quickly through the streets to catch up with Gaius and offer whatever aid he could to the wise physician. He gave a moment of quiet thanks to the Triple Goddess that She had sent Leheya away from the Isle before the illness had started. The thought of his vibrant love struck low by a mysterious ailment made his gut clench in distress. He knew that the loved ones of those who had fallen ill were without a doubt desperate for a cure. With Leheya and the physicians of Camelot here to render aid this mystery would surely be solved quickly. Failure wasn’t an option.

 

“What is your plan, old friend?” He asked Gaius as he caught up with the elderly mage. For a man of his advanced years Gaius moved with a surprisingly sprightly gait.

 

Gaius merely raised an eyebrow before handing his heavy case to the fit Knight at his side. “The plan is simple. Find what is common between those struck with this ailment and destroy it at the source.

 

Alice stopped Lehaya as she started to move to the temple doors and pulled her aside. “My lady I know that you don’t care about appearances but your people do. Please, let us freshen up that your very presence offers hope and calm.”

 

This was met with a flat look from the High Priestess herself but swiftly followed with a sigh as Leheya capitulated. She was desperate to meet with Uveryl and learn what she could but she had learned Morgana’s lessons well and acknowledged that Alice had the right of it. Straight from traveling, dirty cloak and wild hair wasn’t the way to inspire confidence. It showed desperation. She took the older woman by the arm and led her through the halls that servants used, avoiding her Steward and as many people as possible.

 

Alice directed the young porters on where to place their luggage and provisions as Lehaya transformed from the wild druid girl who had driven them to ride ever faster as they raced to the Isle into the graceful High Priestess. Radiating calm and hope. Gone were her leather trousers and doublet. In their place an airy gown of cream shot with thread of gold. Her fiery curls were tamed into a low chignon and pinned with gold and amber combs worked in the runes of healing. A gift from Alice herself when Leheya was formally raised to High Priestess. Beneath the diaphanous layers of her skirt hid the young druid’s only rebellion. In the place of the utterly useless slippers that had been made to match her robes she instead wore her practical, comfortable, and vibrantly green leather boots. She had a feeling she was going to be walking through much of her city today and the delicate heels on those slippers could go hang themselves.

 

“Let us meet with Uveryl, my friend,” Leheya proclaimed confidently to Alice as she exited her room. “We have a mystery to solve.”

 

* * *

 

In the aftermath of the mysterious note’s appearance Gwen had learned a few new things about her court. Firstly she found that despite what was certainly her first instinct; discovering how someone had infiltrated the security of the Citadel, Arthur and his Knights instead focused on the note itself and immediately worked to find a consensus and a plan for action.

 

“Because we have no way to determine the veracity of the thing!,” Leon stated sharply to Elyan’s request that they mobilize immediately to rescue their friend.. “It could very easily be an attempt to lure Camelot into attacking Sarrum’s kingdom. It could have been sent by anyone! Without more information we cannot act!”

 

“And what would you have us do, Leon?” Gwaine asked honestly and without rancor as he looked around the sadly empty chairs representing the friends that weren’t with them. “We desperately prayed for information to lead us to Mordred and here it has literally landed in Arthur’s lap!” He took the note from where it rested at the center of the round table and scanned it for a seventh time. Again a certain phrase stood out to him, “He does not know who leads the bandits. but I was within Sarrum’s Kingdom and heard his mental call,” he read aloud. Presume that this is a genuine plea for help. To have heard Mordred’s mental call, whomever brought our note has to be a magic user. But what would a magic user be doing in Sarrum’s kingdom at all? Honestly from what the refugees that have come from there have said I’m shocked that even one remains. And the way it’s phrased. ‘I was within Sarrums’ kingdom’ indicates that that’s not this person’s home.”

 

Arthur nodded in agreement, “I quite agree. In addition that bit about that bastard planning to attack us in the spring. What good would warning us of an incoming attack do if by leaving us unaware we could be weakened?”

 

“Unless it is an attempt by Lot or Odin to pit two rivals against each other and weaken both,” came Leon’s reply. He had served for ten years under Uther and his ever-growing madness. The lessons from those dark years had taken root deeply. Everyone was an enemy if one merely looked hard enough. He touched the spot above his heart where the letter from his beloved was safely nestled in a hidden pocket. He felt the calm move through him like cool water. Vigilance was one thing. Paranoia was something completely different. He took a deep breath and focused on assessing the facts they had. Not inventing threats from nowhere.

 

Gwen shook her head, “That presumes that we would simply race off with our entire army without first validating the threat. It’s too simplistic for Lot or even Odin. Those men are snakes but they are cunning snakes. No I don’t think this is anything more than what it seems. Someone is aiding Mordred at great personal risk. And somehow they were able to get this note to us without being detected. Though Gwaine’s point is a strong one. WIth magic, and without our own mages in the citadel, it is possible. A set of circumstances I’d prefer that we don’t duplicate in the future.”

 

The second thing Gwen had learned about court that morning was that the courtiers that usually stayed far away from the round table meetings were far less fearful without the magic users being present. As evidenced by the raised voices outside the large doors as the knights on guard turned away another minor noble who had come to petition for Arthur’s aid in some matter or another. Despite being quickly embraced by the common people, the nobles from under Uther’s rule had been slow to accept magic users. Gwen made a note to see what she needed to do about that.

 

They shouldn’t ignore the running of the Kingdom even during a crisis. Given that the answer to their current question was so completely obvious, and without Percival here to move things along by cutting to the heart of the matter. And given that there was little for her brave men to do but talk about this Gwen resolved to let them do just that for as long as they wished. She would take care of Camelot in the meantime.

 

She stood with only a small twinge as he unborn children chose that moment to kick her strongly, and began to walk towards the large doors, intent to use the throne room and hear petitions for all that were waiting when she learned the third thing about her court. As one, the Knight and her husband called for her to stay. “My love, wherever you are going. Whatever you intend to do this is the priority,” Arthur said. “We need your wisdom. If you leave we’re all going to the stables and leaving to rescue Mordred the moment you walk through those doors.”

 

Gwen glanced around the room and pursed her lips as she read the truth of her husband’s words on the faces of the four able warriors at the table. “You cannot be serious!” she said with exasperation. “You will do nothing until Merlin and Morgana return! What possible good will it do to leave the city without them with you? Or have you all suddenly become magic users and can call for Mordred yourselves? What will be done is that you will make preparations for a small group to travel in secret to determine the truth of these claims. In that group will doubtless be Merlin or Morgana. But not both! Not with Gaius, Alice, and Mordred all gone! Arthur it will be up to you to decide which of them goes and which stay. They will both fight to go and will consider it their duty. I do not envy the discussion to come.”

 

The obvious choice to search for Mordred was of course Merlin. Which left him with somehow trying to convince his sister to stay and protect Camelot as her husband went on a rescue mission for the man she considered a son. Perhaps he could simply have Merlin chain her to the wall until he had left. “I love it when you’re right. But I don’t have to like it,” Arthur grumbled as he put his head in his hands and slouched down in his seat.

 

 


End file.
